


Thought Invader

by getpitchslapped



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Worst fic in existence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3998872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getpitchslapped/pseuds/getpitchslapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since the activities fair, Beca has to remind herself every few minutes how much she does NOT care about that redheaded girl. At all. Which is hard, because Chloe is a thought-invader (it’s very inconsiderate).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic I wrote and it’s not great. Also, I’m aware there’s a tense change right in the middle of it, just bear with me.

It was supposed to be the worst day of Beca Mitchell’s life. Being forced to attend a university instead of paying her dues as a DJ in Los Angeles (a university where her father taught, no less), meeting her less-than-personable roommate, finding out the Barden DJs had nothing to do with music—Yes, it should have been a terrible day. But for some reason, when she laid eyes on a particular bubbly redhead, Beca forgot about all of that. She almost forgot her own name, even, when the breathtakingly beautiful (No one should be that pretty, she thought) girl asked Beca to join her singing group.

  
“It’s all from our mouths,” the girl said. For a moment, Beca found herself unable to remove her eyes from the other girl’s said body part. Thankfully, her brain recovered and she remembered to play it cool—“Yikes,” Beca said, pretending that she hadn’t been picturing herself having her way with those lips (wait, what?) just a second before. Feigning disinterest (okay, not completely, because she really didn’t care about this a cappella thing) in the two girls’ sales pitch (no pun intended), and briefly getting into it with the blond one, Beca walked away. Actually, it took a lot of self-control not to sprint away, out of the activities fair and all the way back to her dorm—her skin felt prickly all over and her thoughts were muddled. The feeling was entirely new and very much disconcerting. Beca chalked up her shakiness to the fact that she had skipped breakfast. That was it—she was just hungry, and her brief fantasy had been the result of hunger-induced temporary insanity because there was no way (no way) that she actually wanted to fuse their mouths together, tangling her hands in those red curls and—“I seriously need to eat something,” Beca muttered under her breath, stalking to the campus cafeteria, pausing only briefly to sign up for an internship at Barden’s radio station.

  
Thank God for that internship because, after a few days alone with her thoughts in her dorm room, Beca desperately needed the distraction. The a cappella girl from the activities fair had been plaguing Beca’s dreams by night and seeped into her thoughts during the day. Once, she thought that she had seen the girl out on the quad—she hadn’t, it was just another girl with red hair—and her pulse had quickened and her stomach twisted excitedly (she really needed to start eating breakfast more often). Anyway, when Beca pushed open the door and was met with that comforting smell of vintage that records seemed to have and the pulse of music, she forgot all about the redheaded girl. She met Luke, the station manager, and Jesse, a slightly awkward fellow freshman who she vaguely remembered seeing in a car on move-in day. Yes, she wasn’t thinking about that girl at all until Luke informed Beca and Jesse of the no sex on the desk rule and her thoughts almost immediately made a U-turn, back down Attractive Redhead Lane. Stop it, she ordered herself. You are straight. You like boys (something Beca probably shouldn’t need to remind herself if she truly wasn’t interested in that girl). She looked up at Luke, almost forcing herself to admire his sandy hair and chiseled physique. Well, she didn’t need to force herself that much. After assigning Beca and Jesse the tedious task of CD-stacking and returning to the booth, and an excruciatingly long few hours of awkward conversation with Jesse, Beca returned to her dorm room. She was met with a cold stare form her roommate Kimmy Jin, so Beca slid her headphones over her ears and lay down on her bed, rolling over to face the wall and, consciously reminding herself of how attractive Luke was and definitely not how pretty that girl is, Beca slipped into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the silence that woke Beca up. She looked down and saw that her iPod had run out of battery.  _How long was I asleep?_  she thought, checking the digital clock by her bed.  _Oops._ It was after midnight.  _No sense in starting my philosophy homework now_. Stretching her arms over her head, Beca quietly, as to not wake up Kimmy Jin, removed her clothes, put on a bathrobe, gathered her towel and shower tote and slipped out the door of her dorm room. She padded down the hall to the communal bathroom (which, by the way, she was  _not_  happy about). Beca vaguely remembered listening to the song  _Titanium_  sometime during her nap, so she didn’t think anything of it when she started singing under her breath as she pushed open the door to the bathroom.  _I doubt anyone else is taking midnight showers_ , she thought distractedly. But alas, Beca was very, very wrong. So wrong, in fact, that she did not notice when someone slipped into the shower stall with her. 

“You  _can_  sing!”

“ _Dude_!” Beca yelled, whipping around willing her eyes to look anywhere but at the other girl’s naked form. It wasn’t even the fact that some random person barged in on her that made her skin feel hot all over and her breath catch in her throat. No, it had a lot more to do with  _who_  that random person was. When she saw that girl, that redheaded girl from the activities fair that refused to leave her thoughts, standing in front of her wearing  _absolutely nothing_ and not at all apologetic, Beca briefly wondered if she was still dreaming. But, just to be safe, she grabbed the shower curtain with a shaky hand and held it in front of her own very naked body.

“I’m Chloe,” the other girl said, seemingly not noticing the fact that she was baring all for a stranger. “You  _have_  to join the Bellas.”

“I can’t concentrate on anything you’re saying until you cover your junk,” Beca said. It was true—the urge to lower her eyes was overwhelmingly tempting. Unfortunately, Chloe either hadn’t heard her or didn’t care. Beca was betting on the latter.

“One time, we sang backup for Prince!” Chloe continued. “His butt was so tiny I could hold it with, like, one hand—Oops!” Chloe had inadvertently knocked the oversized loohfah Beca had been using to cover her chest to the floor. In an effort to remain modest, Beca turned around and pressed her front to the wall of the shower.

“Seriously,” she said. “I am nude.”  _And lightheaded and shaky and slightly nauseous_.

“You were singing Titanium, right?” Chloe pressed, stepping closer.

“You know David Guetta?” Beca asked, momentarily forgetting Chloe’s close proximity and lack of clothing at the mention of one of her currently-favorite artists.

“Have I been living under a rock? Yeah. That song is my jam. My  _lady_  jam.”

 _Oh, God._ “That’s nice,” Beca said, trying not to imagine what, exactly, a  _lady jam_  was.

“It is. That song really builds.” Chloe winked suggestively. Beca was having a really hard time reining in her imagination now.

“Gross,” Beca breathed, because, really, what was she  _supposed_  to say?

“Will you sing it for me?” Chloe asked, stepping even closer.  _Is she asking what I think she’s asking?_ “Dude, no, get  _out_!” Beca half-yelled, not trusting herself this close to Chloe.

“Not for  _that_  reason.”  _Oh._  “I’m not leaving here ‘til you sing.” Beca, still facing the wall, peered over her shoulder at the other girl, willing her to leave. Chloe didn’t seem to have any plans of doing so, unfortunately. Eventually, Beca turned back around, and, clutching her arms to her chest and, training her eyes on Chloe’s ( _God, she has beautiful eyes_ ), began to sing. It was awkward at first, performing in a shower stall for a stranger, but when Chloe began to harmonize with her, Beca almost forgot that she was, in fact, performing in a shower stall for a (naked) stranger. At the end of their duet, however, Beca, in a moment of weakness, let her eyes wander down Chloe’s front.  _Wow._  She quickly averted her eyes, pointedly staring at the ceiling.

“Oh, yeah,” Chloe said, a laugh on the edge of her voice. “I’m pretty confident about”—she gestured with her hands to her body—“all of this.”

“You should be,” Beca said before she could stop herself. Chloe smiled at her and handed Beca her towel. They stared at each other for a moment before a boy ( _when did he get here?_ ) appeared behind Chloe.

“You have a lovely voice,” he said, staring at the two girls unapologetically.

“ _Thanks_ ,” Beca spat, frowning. It was only then did Chloe seem to notice the two girls’ nakedness, and she quickly took the boy by the arm and headed out of Beca’s stall, throwing a “See you at auditions!” over her shoulder.

When she heard the door swing shut, Beca leaned her forehead against the cool shower wall, her thoughts bouncing around inside her head and her heart racing like she had just run a long distance.  _It’s from seeing that guy naked_ , she said to herself.  _Because girls who like guys like that kind of thing._  Yes, it had nothing to do with Chloe and everything to do with that strange guy. Beca steadied her hands on the wall and righted herself.  _Also, you’re tired_ , she reminded herself. See, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the redheaded girl who had been invading her thoughts for three days.

But really, what the hell had she gotten herself into?


	3. Chapter 3

Auditions came and went. Beca showed up and did her song-and-cup bit (who know that would ever come in handy?), per her agreement with her father. And, okay,  _maybe_  because she wanted to see Chloe again. But only a little. Anyway, it wasn’t quite as excruciating as she thought it would be and, modesty aside, Beca wasn’t too surprised when she was accepted into the group. Initiation night was an entirely new experience, though—the Bella Oath was a little intense, and some of the other girls were pretty crazy (Fat Amy, anyone?) but it wasn’t  _that_  bad. After Aubrey led her new recruits to the outdoor ampitheatre, Beca hung back from the dancing, drinking people, taking it all in. She spotted Jesse, the guy from the radio station at the same time he spotted her.

“Beca! Beckaw! Beckaw!” he shouted, wobbling his way over the benches and stopping in front of her. Beca raised her eyebrows at him, smirking.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or are you a Barden Bella?” he slurred, and Beca winced slightly at that horribly cheesy name. “You’re one of those a cappella girls, and I’m one of those a cappella boys, and we’re going to have aca-children. It’s inevitable.” Beca just looked at him, not entirely sure of the protocol when one is pretty much being proposed to by a drunken near-stranger.

“You’re pretty drunk right now,” she said, stating the obvious. “I don’t think you’re going to remember any of this.”

“I’m not drunk at all, you’re just blurry,” Jesse replied, and at that Beca had to laugh, and accepted when Jesse offered to get her a drink (“I think you need to get on this level,” he said). Almost as soon as Jesse turned around, Chloe appeared, fairly inebriated herself. She grabbed Beca’s hands in hers and leaned her face precariously close. So close that Beca could smell the cheap alcohol on Chloe’s breath. So close that she would only need to stick her tongue out to make contact with Chloe’s lips. So close that Beca almost forgot how to breathe.

“I’m so glad I met you,” Chloe told her emphatically. “I think we’re going to be really fast friends.”

“Well, you saw me naked, so…” Beca winked, trying to imitate the way Chloe seemed to carelessly flirt with  _everyone_. When Chloe pulled away, stating “This ginger needs her jiggle juice!” and smacked herself on the ass, Beca nearly fell over, unable to stop herself from staring. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, finally settling on a weak “Make good choices” as she watched Chloe saunter away. Jesse returned with her drink within the minute, and Beca sipped at it, wincing at Jesse’s drunken antics and pointedly _not_  watching Chloe make out with a random guy. The angry feeling in the pit of her stomach only worsened as her eyes kept pulling back to Chloe. Beca set her cup on the ground, telling herself that the cheap liquor was making her feel ill because she was  _no way_ jealous of some frat boy. No way. After about a half hour of listening to Jesse’s intoxicated blatherings and  _not_  straining her eyes searching for Chloe, Beca had a headache. She muttered an excuse to Jesse and slipped away from the party. She didn’t make it too far, though, before she heard someone calling her name. She turned around to find a very tipsy Chloe tripping her way towards her.

“Where are you going?” the redhead asked, standing far closer to Beca than normal social protocol dictates.

“I, uh, have a headache,” Beca said lamely. It was true, but for some reason felt like a lie.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Chloe whined, resting a hand on Beca’s forearm. She almost instantly went weak in the knees.

“Sorry?” Beca squeaked, the word coming out sounding like a question because  _oh, God_ Chloe’s face was suddenly coming very close to hers. For a horrifying second, Beca’s whole body went on red-alert, positive the redhead was going to kiss her. She felt Chloe’s breath against her lips before they diverted and she planted a wet kiss on Beca’s forehead. As Chloe pulled away, Beca blinked a few times in disbelief.

“Feel better,” Chloe giggled. She waved at Beca before turning back to rejoin the party.

For a moment, Beca was riveted to the spot, not trusting herself to walk. She pressed her fingertips to her tingling forehead, blinked a few more times, and then ran as fast as she could back to her dorm.


	4. Chapter 4

Beca reached the door to her dorm room, breathless. She fumbled with her key for a moment before sliding it into the lock and pushing open the door. The room was dark and quiet; it seemed that Kimmy Jin would not be home that night. Panting slightly, Beca flicked the light switch on and peeled off her jacket. She plopped down in front of her computer, put her headphones over her ears, and tried to quiet the storm raging in her head. She needed to distract herself, because every time Beca closed her eyes all she saw was Chloe’s lips inching closer to her own. She started a new mix, not bothering to give it a name, and turned the volume up as loud as it would go. She didn’t allow herself to think twice when Titanium somehow found its way into her mashup.

Beca worked on her mix until her hands shook and her eyes burned, desperate for sleep. After nearly nodding off on top of her keyboard, she flopped clumsily onto her bed and fell asleep quickly, her dreams laced with Chloe’s chaste kiss and the throbbing bass of Titanium.

* * *

 

 Beca woke up the next morning to the sound of her alarm and a death glare from Kimmy Jin. Ignoring the other girl, Beca fumbled for her phone.  _8:00 First Bellas practice_ read the screen. She groaned, regretting her late bedtime the night before.  _Why would Aubrey think an early practice the morning after initiation was a good idea?_  she wondered as she dragged herself out of bed. Still dressed in the clothes she fell asleep in the night before, Beca changed her shirt and ran her fingers through her hair, choosing to ignore her smudged eyeliner and pounding headache. She hastily stuffed her phone in her pocket and her feet in her shoes and left the room, crossing the quad to the auditorium.

* * *

 

The second she saw Chloe, Beca immediately regretted not spending an extra few minutes on her appearance. Chloe was wearing a pink shirt that complimented her complexion and her red waves framed her face. She was also wearing a pair of heels ( _heels_ —at eight in the morning!). She looked effortlessly put-together.  _I must look like such a slob_ , Beca thought before she reminded herself that she didn’t care, because it’s not like she was craving Chloe’s attention or something. Still, Beca tugged self-consciously at the hem of her shirt as she took a seat in a folding chair with the other new Bella recruits. She yawned her way through most of Aubrey’s speech, finding nearly everything the blond said outrageous and dictator-esque. After Aubrey kicked out a girl for apparently hooking up with a Treble last night, Beca couldn’t help but interject.

“Was that necessary?” she asked, hearing the girl’s cries from outside the door.

“This is war, Beca,” Aubrey said matter-of-factly. “You can hook up with whoever you want, just not a Treble.”  _Chloe’s not a Treble_ , Beca thought before she could stop herself.  _Shut_ up, she admonished her brain, glancing at the redhead nervously, as if she could hear Beca’s thoughts. Luckily, it didn’t seem that Chloe was a mind reader ( _just a thought-invader_ ), her eyes trained on Aubrey and smiling, as if the blond was divulging something incredibly important.

“That’s not going to be easy,” she heard Stacie say, breaking Beca from her internal argument. “He’s a hunter.” Stacie gestured to her, ah,  _lady parts_  and raised an eyebrow.

“You call it a dude?” Beca asked, slightly shocked yet strangely impressed.

“Stacie,” Aubrey began, speaking as though she was talking to a young child, “the Trebles don’t respect us. And if we let them penetrate us, we are giving them our power.”

“Not a good enough reason to use the word  _penetrate_ ,” Fat Amy called out from behind Beca. Aubrey brought her fingers to her temples, pointedly choosing to ignore the other blond.

After explaining the elaborate flow chart that somehow would guarantee victory, Aubrey told everyone to stand. For the next two hours, Beca and the rest of the new Bellas learned, rehearsed, and re-rehearsed the song and choreography. It was excruciatingly tedious. She was absently half-paying attention to the dance she was supposed to be learning when she felt someone come up behind her. Chloe pressed herself against Beca’s back and held Beca’s wrists in her own. Her hands were soft against Beca’s skin and her breath was hot in Beca’s ear and for a horrifying moment Beca’s eyes fluttered shut as she fought to keep her pulse down. She coughed awkwardly, embarrassed by her lack of control over her own body.

“Like this,” Chloe said, guiding Beca’s arms through the choreography.  Her red hair brushed against Beca’s as she hummed the tune softly in Beca’s ear and  _oh, God_ Beca needed Chloe away from her  _now_  before she passed out.

“I got it,” Beca croaked. She cleared her throat and said again, louder, “I got it. Thanks.” Chloe finally let go of Beca’s wrists and she wiped her hands on her jeans, avoiding eye contact with Chloe as the redhead smiled at her and moved on to help the next girl. Beca sucked in a few deep breaths, and when she looked up, she saw Cynthia Rose looking at her with an unreadable expression on her face.

* * *

       

After her nearly earth-shattering encounter with Chloe, Beca was beyond relieved when Aubrey finally ended the practice. The Bellas had been running the same number over and over again and still looked like a hot mess. If she hadn’t been forced to participate in the whole charade, Beca would have been laughing at Aubrey, who briefly looked like her head was going to explode. But she was too tired and her feet hurt too much in those damn heels to find anything very amusing. After informing the group that they had “a gig” at some frat party ( _gag_ ), Aubrey dismissed the Bellas. Just as Beca was about to leave and hightail it back to her dorm and lose herself in a mix because  _there’s only so much one person can take in a day_ , Aubrey called her name.

“A word?” she said.

“What’s up?” Beca asked, shifting from foot to foot and glancing at the door.

“You know you’ll have to take those ear monstrosities out for the fall mixer,” Aubrey informed Beca, her displeasure visible at the words  _ear monstrosities_.

“You really don’t like me, do you?” Beca said, more of a statement than a question.

“I don’t like your attitude. And I know you have a toner for Jesse.”

“A  _what_?” Beca asked, a smile finding its way to her face and laughing in a sort of shocked manner because, first of all,  _what the hell is a toner_  and, second, Chloe was standing closer than she should be if she wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.

“A toner?” Aubrey pressed, “a musical boner. I saw it, at hood night. It’s distracting.” Beca felt her face heat up slightly at the word  _boner_  ( _really now? What are we, twelve?_ ).

“Yeah, um, that’s not actually a thing and"—Beca took a step back—"you’re not the boss of me, so…” she let her voice trail off.

“You took an  _oath_ , Beca,” Aubrey said, leaning forward and getting that about-to-explode look about her again.

“That oath cost you two girls  _today_ ,” Beca pointed out, recalling Aubrey’s announcement that Corey was no longer a Bella and the other girl’s (Beca never even got a chance to learn her name) humiliating excommunication. “I’m pretty sure you need me more than I need you.” She gave Aubrey one last hard look before walking away.

“I can see your toner through those jeans!” Aubrey called after her.

Beca turned around and, walking backwards, yelled, “That’s my dick.” And with that, she left the auditorium, the door closing behind her with a satisfying  _click_.

Beca started out across the quad towards her dorm.  _What a bitch,_  she seethed.  _And she thinks I like Jesse! What an idiot._  Her next thought stopped her in her tracks:  _Does_ Chloe _think I like Jesse?_  Beca shook her head and resumed walking, reminding herself that  _I don’t care what Chloe thinks_. She was, in fact, so focused on thinking about how much she _didn’t_  like Chloe and  _not_  reliving her chagrin from that morning that Beca nearly mowed down Cynthia Rose, who was walking towards her.

“Oh, sorry!” Beca said, holding out her hands apologetically. “Didn’t see you there.”

Cynthia Rose smirked. “Yeah, you seemed kinda distracted. Really lost in thought.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Beca replied, a feeling that could only be described as  _uncomfortable_  growing in the pit of her stomach at Cynthia Rose’s knowing smile.

“What’s on your mind? Or, should I say,  _who_?” That smile was becoming overwhelming.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Beca said defensively, although the blush spreading from her neck up to her cheeks suggested otherwise.

“ _You_  might not,” Cynthia Rose said cryptically, “but  _I_ do.” She patted Beca on the shoulder and walked away, leaving the brunette standing in the middle of the path, mouth slightly agape.  _What the hell?_  Beca started towards her dorm again. “I don’t know what she was talking about,” she muttered to herself again.  _Yes, you do_  said a nagging voice in the back of her head.

Beca once again silenced the voice and walked as fast as she could without actually running back to her dorm.


	5. Chapter 5

The SBT mixer was, as expected, a disaster. The Bellas’ singing was off-key and the choreography was all over the place. Beca spent the performance with her eyes trained on the ground, feeling stupid and uncomfortable in the ridiculous Bellas uniform (but really—whose idea was it to have them dress as flight attendants?). When one of the beer-drinking frat boys cut Aubrey off halfway through Turn the Beat Around, no one was very surprised. Beca almost started laughing at Aubrey’s shocked expression before reminding herself that this was most definitely  _not_  the time and place for an  _I told you so_. After being lectured by Aubrey and Chloe’s tearful confession (Beca’s still not one hundred percent clear on what  _nodes_  are, exactly), the girls are more than ready to call it a day. Most everyone offers some sort of condolence to Chloe as they leave, so Beca feels somewhat obligated to approach the sniffling redhead.

“Um,” she says, shifting awkwardly in her heels. “That, uh, that sucks.” Beca almost immediately wants to kick herself.  _Real smooth, Mitchell._  Amazingly, Chloe just smiles at her.

“Thanks, Beca,” she says, placing her hand on the brunette’s arm.  For a good ten seconds, Beca forgets to breathe.

“Are you going to do anything about them?” Beca asks, gesturing to Chloe’s throat.

The redhead sighs. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, yeah, they hurt sometimes, but if I have surgery now it could restrict my vocal range.”

“Oh,” is all Beca can think to say, because Chloe’s hand is still on her arm and she’s looking at Beca with such a sad smile it makes her heart constrict in her chest. Her beautiful blue eyes are watery and Beca is overcome with this  _feeling_  of desperation to see Chloe happy again.

Without warning, Chloe wraps her arms around Beca and pulls the smaller girl in for a hug. Although she is not usually one for physical contact, Beca can’t help but notice that Chloe gives good hugs—her arms fit around Beca’s narrow shoulders and she squeezes just tight enough to convey affection without cutting off Beca’s airway. Not that Beca can breathe anyway (she hopes to God that Chloe can’t feel how hard her heart is pounding). When Chloe breaks away, Beca stands there dumbly, unsure of what to do. It’s not like people give her hugs often. And certainly never people like Chloe.

Just as Beca realizes she’s standing there looking like an idiot as Chloe watches her, she hears Aubrey’s voice. “Chloe! Let’s  _go_!” The blond is standing impatiently about twenty feet away. Chloe smiles at Beca again, and this time Beca makes a conscious effort to take deep breaths.

“See you tomorrow,” Chloe calls over her shoulder, already walking towards Aubrey.

“Bye!” Beca yells after her, five seconds later than would be normal. She could swear she hears Chloe laugh.

* * *

 

It’s the Monday after fall-mixer-gate and Beca is sitting in the grass on the quad, killing time on her laptop. Normally she’d be in her room working on a new mix or something, but Kimmy Jin informed her that she was having some Korean Club friends over after very bluntly telling Beca that she needs to get out more.

Beca is halfheartedly writing an English paper that she really couldn’t care less about ( _I’m pretty sure Hemingway didn’t intend for me to read this much into his book_ , she’s tempted to write) when a pair of sneakered feet stop beside her and a juice pouch lands in her lap. She looks up to see Jesse smiling down at her, and he promptly spreads a towel across the grass and takes a seat.

Beca likes Jesse, she does—he’s a nice guy and has a good sense of humor. But Jesse talks, like,  _all the time_. And sometimes… Sometimes it’s a little annoying. Beca’s willing to bet that there isn’t a movie on this earth that Jesse  _hasn’t_  seen, so it’s no surprise when Jesse reaches into his backpack and pulls out a stack of DVDs (in addition to a candle, which baffles Beca). Beca pokes her straw into the juice pouch and waits for Jesse to start talking.

“You know I love spending time with you,” Jesse says. “I do. Like, more than life.”  _Um, okay_. “But I think that we should spend some time doing things that don’t make us want to kill ourselves.” Beca laughs genuinely. She knows exactly what Jesse is referencing—so far, the only thing that Luke has allowed the two of them to do at the radio station is stack CDs and sort records. Oh, and get him lunch.

Jesse tosses the DVDs out in front of him, naming them one by one. “Jaws, ET, The Breakfast Club, Rocky.” He looks at Beca eagerly. “Best-scored movies of all time. That’s what I want to do when I grow up—I want to score movies.”

“You must really sweep your girlfriend off her feet,” Beca quips, sucking on her straw.

“Actually, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Jesse says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“ _What?!_ ” Beca feigns shock. “But you have juice pouches and Rocky!” Jesse smirks and punches her playfully on the arm.

“So, what are we gonna watch tonight?” Jesse jokes. He looks at Beca hopefully, and it’s kind of cute how much he seems to like her.

“How about we do something else?” Beca suggests. “We could visit a gynecologist. Or relive my parents’ divorce.” She feels a little bad shutting Jesse down, but movies really aren’t Beca’s thing. Actually, she sort of hates them.

Jesse picks up on this. “What? Do you not like movies or something?” He looks slightly hurt and all Beca can do is sip at her juice pouch. “Not liking movies is like not liking puppies!” Beca doesn’t have the heart to tell him she’s not a big fan of puppies, either.

“They’re okay,” she backtracks. “I just get bored and never get to the end.”

“The endings are the best part!” Jesse exclaims.

“They’re predictable. The guy gets the girl and that kid sees dead people and Darth Vader is Luke’s father—”

“Oh, so you just  _happened_  to guess the biggest cinematic reveal in all of  _history_?” Jesse asks, and Beca notices that he is inching towards her, ever so slightly.

“ _Vader_  in German means father. His name is literally Darth Father,” Beca points out, recalling the little bit of middle-school German that she actually paid attention to.

“Oh, so you know German,” Jesse says, nodding. “Now I know why you don’t like fun things.” Beca laughs. “What you need is a movie education,” Jesse continues. “You need a movie-cation. And I’m going to give it to you.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Yeah? When? In between Bellas rehearsals, which are  _always_?” she points out, trying to get out of this whole  _movie-cation_  thing.

Jesse rests his elbows on his knees. “Are you guys getting ready for the riff-off?” he asks.

Beca blinks, confused. “What the  _hell_  is a riff-off?” she asks, slightly afraid of the answer.

As Jesse explains the elaborate game that is apparently a Barden a cappella tradition and _totally confusing_ , Beca leans back on her elbows and studies his face.  _He’s cute,_  she thinks. But she can’t help but notice that his eyes are nowhere near as pretty as Chloe’s.


	6. Chapter 6

When Beca rolls out of bed the morning after the riff-off, she’s smiling. Although the game was absolutely every bit as dorky as Beca had anticipated, she had found herself getting really  _into_ it; she hadn’t even meant to cut off Jesse’s serenade and start rapping “No Diggity”; it just sort of  _happened_. And,  _wow_ , it was such a  _rush_. Of course, Beca could have done without the brief embarrassment she experienced before Fat Amy joined her in the song (Beca makes a mental note to thank the Aussie for saving her ass), but once everyone got into it she felt on top of the world. Beca wracks her brain, but she can’t remember another recent time when she was this  _happy_. And, okay,  _maybe_  some of it came from the hug from Chloe she had received after they finished the song (“Nice one,” the redhead had told her, winking), but even Aubrey had to admit that the Bellas had really worked well together for the first time (of course, Aubrey wouldn’t be Aubrey if she didn’t find something to criticize immediately after).

So Beca’s feeling pretty damn good this morning; she hums “No Diggity” under her breath as she gets dressed, and even Kimmy Jin’s admonishing stare doesn’t dampen her good mood. Beca doesn’t have class for another hour or so (for some strange reason, Beca actually plans on attending a class), so she decides to be “social” and get coffee in the campus cafeteria.

“I’m going to the cafeteria!” she practically sings to Kimmy Jin, placing her headphones around her neck and opening the door.

Kimmy Jin looks at Beca like she has three heads. “I don’t care,” the Asian says flatly. Beca merely smiles and skips down the hall.

* * *

After getting her coffee, Beca picks a table in the corner of the cafeteria and sits down. She slides her headphones over her ears and leans back in her chair, savoring the music that pulses into her ears. Absently toying with her cup, waiting for the liquid to cool, Beca replays the riff-off in her head. She remembers how Chloe’s mouth dropped as Dr. Dre’s words fell out of Beca’s mouth. She remembers how, after realizing that no one was jumping in to join her and Beca froze in a moment of panic, Jesse encouraged her to keep going. She remembers the flood of relief when Fat Amy started harmonizing with her. She remembers how incredibly  _on top of the world_  she felt as she finished the song and everyone was clapping and cheering. For  _her_. And, of course, Beca remembers Chloe’s hug.

Beca is so engrossed in remembering and tapping her fingers on the table to the beat of the music that she doesn’t notice when someone walks up behind her. She feels a tap on her shoulder and startles, jumping up and banging her knees underneath the table and, consequently, sending her coffee careening to the floor.

“ _Shit,_ ” Beca curses, ripping her headphones off of her ears and turning to apologize to the person she whose shoes she just soaked with hot coffee. Her apology sticks in her throat, though, when she realizes the person standing over her, laughing despite her stained shoes, is  _Chloe_.

“I—Wow,” she sputters, blushing violently. “I am so sorry.” Chloe sets her bag down on the chair next to the one Beca is seated in. She grabs a handful of napkins out of the dispenser on the table and drops them on the puddle of coffee on the floor before taking a second handful and dabbing at her shoes.

“I’m sorry,” Beca says again, internally kicking herself for being such a klutz.

Chloe holds up a hand to silence her. “It’s  _fine,_ ” she says, a laugh at the edge of her voice. Beca can only stare, embarrassingly captivated by how damn  _pretty_  Chloe is. Her red hair is loose around her shoulders, and the soft blue shirt she’s wearing draws attention to her eyes (like Beca could miss those eyes if she tried). Chloe sits down in the chair across from Beca and it takes the brunette a full five seconds to realize that she’s staring stupidly at Chloe, mouth slightly agape.

“You’re going to let flies in,” Chloe jokes, hooking her forefinger under Beca’s chin and gently pushing her mouth closed.

Beca flushes even redder, if it’s possible. “Sorry,” she says again.

“You apologize too much,” Chloe jokingly chastises. She points to the headphones around Beca’s neck. The tinny sound of the music still playing can be heard faintly. “What are you listening to?”

“Nothing,” Beca says, her shaking hands fumbling to find the iPod in her pocket. Chloe reaches across the table and removes the headphones, placing them over her ears before Beca can stop her.

Chloe listens for a moment, her face breaking into a wide smile. “It’s my lady jam,” she says excitedly. Beca fights the urge to apologize, as if listening to “Titanium” was an invasion of Chloe’s privacy. It sort of feels that way. Beca hasn’t been able to get the song out of her head since Chloe cornered her in the shower. The opening chords give Beca the same feeling in her stomach as when she’s riding in an airplane when there’s turbulence—that sort of twisted excitement that comes from the sensation that she’s falling. The feeling is confusing and scares her a little (okay, a  _lot_ ), but Beca is strangely addicted to it. Strangely addicted to  _Chloe_.

“Uh, yeah,” Beca says, hastily turning off the iPod. Chloe hands her headphones back to her. “What’s up?” Beca asks, in an effort to change the subject.

Chloe twirls a red curl around her finger. “I am in such a good mood,” she tells Beca.

Beca laughs. “Are you ever  _not_  in a good mood?” Chloe pokes her in the arm playfully, and a tingling sensation shoots down Beca’s arm.

“I think,” Chloe says, leaning towards Beca conspiratorially. The smell of her perfume makes Beca a little bit lightheaded. “I think that last night was really great. I think—no, I  _know_  that if we can work together like we did last night, we can make it to nationals. Maybe even win!” Chloe’s voice gets an excited lilt to it as she speaks that gives Beca that turbulence sensation again.

“I hate to burst your bubble, Chloe, but we’re not going to get very far with our outdated set.” It’s true—the Bellas have no hope for a national win if they don’t change their set to something that won’t bore people to sleep. Aubrey is the person in charge of the Bellas, but she won’t listen to anything Beca has to say. Beca figures the best route to Aubrey is through Chloe, but the redhead’s deflated sigh makes Beca want to eat her words.

“I know,” she says, placing her hand on top of Beca’s. Beca’s body decides that the appropriate response is to break out into a cold sweat. “Just…” she taps her fingers against Beca’s palm, “try it Aubrey’s way. No offense, but she has more experience than you do.” Beca, who is staring at Chloe’s hand in hers, manages a dumb nod. When Chloe pulls her warm hand away to check the time on her phone, Beca hides her numb one in her lap so Chloe won’t see how badly she’s shaking.

“Oh!” Chloe exclaims at the time. “I have to go to class. See you at rehearsal!” The redhead envelops Beca—who just sits there stiffly—in a hug. The brunette watches Chloe walk away. More specifically, Beca watches Chloe’s  _ass_  as she walks away. She pinches herself, but no matter how hard she tries, she cannot tear her eyes away.


	7. Chapter 7

In an effort to comply with Chloe’s request, Beca tries not to push Aubrey’s buttons in the weeks leading up to regionals. It’s tough, and they still butt heads, but the warm smiles and shoulder squeezes she receives from Chloe make Beca’s incessant tongue-biting worthwhile. Regionals doesn’t go too badly, if you subtract her arrest and Jesse’s clear over-extension of their relationship. Her dad rants at her the entire car ride back to Barden from the police station before dumping her near her dorm. But even that seemed a miniscule sacrifice when Chloe and the rest of the Bellas greet Beca at the door. Kimmy Jin, however, was not amused.

Beca tries to show the Bellas a new arrangement she’s been working on because, as Aubrey helpfully points out, the Sockappellas ( _gag_ ) almost beat them and Beca knows she can  _help_ , if Aubrey would just let her. Of course, the blond doesn’t, talking over Chloe when she tries to defend Beca. Beca clenches her hands into fists to keep from telling Aubrey precisely what she’s thinking right now because Chloe is smiling at her apologetically. The girls chat for a few more minutes before everyone files out the door of Beca’s room. Everyone, that is, except Chloe, who lingers by the computer and stares at Beca.

“What?” Beca says, feeling self-conscious, like Chloe can read her mind.

“Can you show me?” Chloe asks, gesturing to the computer.

“Really?” asks Beca dumbly, her brain clouding with the thought that she is alone with Chloe. In her room.

Chloe laughs. “Yes, really. Just because Aubrey won’t listen doesn’t mean I won’t.” Beca walks over to her computer and sits in the chair. She queues up a mix she spent, like, five hours working on the other day in a half-rage over Aubrey’s stubbornness. Chloe leans over the chair, her chest nearly touching Beca’s cheek. Beca promptly turns red, scolding her imagination as it kicks into overdrive and prays that Chloe can’t hear how loudly her heart is pounding. Chloe is quiet, though, and when the mix finishes she sits down on Beca’s bed. Beca turns in her chair to face Chloe. A moment passes, with Chloe looking at Beca like she can see into her soul.

“That,” she says, “was  _amazing._ ”

Beca flushes again, and ducks her head. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. It’s really good. Really,  _really_  good.” Chloe leans back on Beca’s bed, nestling herself in Beca’s pillows. It’s different from when Jesse does it. When Jesse stretches out on Beca’s bed like he’s on his living room couch, she feels annoyed, like he’s imposing on her space. Looking at Chloe, though, with her cheeks red from the heat spurting out of the dorm’s faulty vents and her hair spilling around her shoulders, Beca feels flattered. Like Chloe picked  _her_ bed, specially, out of all the beds at Barden. It’s a comfortable feeling. Comfortable enough that Beca, in a brush of courage, sits down next to the redhead. Chloe promptly drapes an arm over the smaller girl, and Beca is positive she’s going to melt right then and there. They’re close enough that Beca can feel Chloe’s breath against her cheek, the rhythm of her heartbeat, the heat of her body. The two sit in silence for a few minutes.

“What’s your favorite color?” Chloe asks, out of the blue.

Beca turns her face her. “What?”

“What’s your favor—“ Chloe starts to repeat.

“No, no, I heard you,” Beca interrupts. “I just… Why?”

Chloe retracts her arm from around Beca’s shoulders and turns her body that she and Beca are facing each other. “I don’t know that much about you. I want to get to know you better.”

Beca looks at Chloe for a moment. “Uh, I don’t know. Blue?”

Chloe shakes her head. “Everyone’s favorite color is blue.”

“Well, sor _ry_ , I didn’t know that there was a wrong answer,” Beca jokes.

Chloe smiles. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…” she pauses, as if picking her words carefully. “Blue’s so  _generic_. And you—“ she points a finger at Beca “—are not generic.”

“Whatever,” Beca says, blushing. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Glitter,” Chloe says emphatically.

“That’s not a color.”

“Yes, it is!” Chloe insists.

“Yeah,  _okay_. Whatever you say,” Beca laughs. “Next question.”

Chloe looks thoughtful for a minute, then her face breaks into a smile. “Why are you still in your uniform?”

Beca looks down at herself and, realizing that she is, in fact, still in the stupid blouse and uncomfortable skirt, laughs. “I don’t like changing with an audience.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen,” Chloe says. Beca blushes, because although she is wearing clothes, she feels inexplicably  _exposed_. She crosses her arms over her chest. Chloe giggles and covers her eyes with her hands. “Go ahead and change, I hate those skirts, too.”

Beca slides off the bed, picks up a pair of jeans off the floor and reaches into her drawer for a clean t-shirt. Checking to make sure Chloe still has her eyes closed, she yanks down the skirt, shimmies into her jeans, and throws on the shirt. “Okay.” Chloe takes her hand off of her eyes as Beca flops back down on the bed.

“One more question,” Chloe says, her tone suddenly serious.

Beca glances up at her. “What?”

“What’s…” Chloe starts, then hesitates. She looks almost… Nervous. “What’s up with you and Jesse?”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Nothing,” she says. “We’re just friends. He can be kind of annoying sometimes, to be honest.” Chloe lets out a breath, looking… Relieved, almost. “No need to worry about the Bella code.”

“The Bella code. Right.” Chloe smiles, but something about the look in her eyes seems kind of  _off_. Hesitantly, Beca places a hand on the redhead’s knee. When she looks back up at Chloe, the warmth has returned to her big, blue eyes.

Chloe covers Beca’s hand with her own, sending tingles up the brunette’s arm. “Can I tell you something?” Chloe asks. Beca nods, unable to find her voice.

“You’re my favorite addition to the Bellas,” Chloe says, her voice low, as if someone would overhear them. “I really—“ She is cut off when Kimmy Jin opens the door and glares at the two of them.

“I think it’s time for your friend to leave,” Kimmy Jin says, looking pointedly at Chloe.

“Yeah, it’s late,” Chloe says. The redhead leans over and hugs Beca tightly. “See you tomorrow.” She walks into the hallway, turning to smile at Beca before Kimmy Jin borderline-slams the door in her face. Beca smiles stupidly at the closed door.

“Next time you decide to throw a party, warn me first,” Kimmy Jin spits, flicking off the lights. Beca buries her face in her pillow, breathing in the fruity scent that Chloe left, and wonders what Chloe had been about to say.  _You really what?_


	8. Chapter 8

Semi-finals could not have gone any worse. In retrospect, Beca thinks, maybe it was a bad idea to improvise without warning. Okay, it  _was_  a bad idea, but it was only done with the best intentions (not that Aubrey cared). But Beca doesn’t even care (that much) about pissing Aubrey off, or not advancing to the finals. She’s too busy kicking herself for yelling at Chloe.  _Yelling at Chloe_. Equivalent to drowning a kitten, or stealing candy from a baby, or kicking a stray dog. She yelled at Chloe, and then ran away. Beca has barely slept since, or been able to eat, and she  _definitely_  hasn’t talked to Chloe, even though the redhead has tried to text her five separate times (and, okay, she yelled at Jesse, too, but she doesn’t feel quite so gut-wrenchingly guilty about that).

* * *

It’s the day before spring break, and most of the students are in high spirits, with big plans for vacations or visiting home. Since Barden sort of  _is_  Beca’s home, she’s staying for the duration of break. Plus she has the night shift at the radio station. Beca’s moping around her dorm room, like she has been since semi-finals, mixing sad songs and flipping through pictures of Chloe on Facebook. She’s torturing herself; every picture makes the knot in her stomach twist a little harder—but it’s a small price to pay for the (Beca can only think to describe it as  _heartbroken_ ) look on Chloe’s face when Beca snapped at her. She’s already gone through all of Chloe’s profile pictures and twenty-seven out of her thirty-four albums (Chloe, it seems, has a habit of documenting  _everything_ ).

            She’s looking at pictures of Chloe’s most recent Thanksgiving family gathering, headphones over her ears, when Kimmy Jin offers her a (albeit monotonous) “Happy spring break.”

“Thanks,” Beca says distractedly, staring at Chloe’s smiling face and hating herself a little bit more. Kimmy Jin looks at her for a minute, then walks out the door. Beca can faintly hear her roommate through her headphones say something to someone at the door, but Beca figures it’s a Korean Club friend or family member and doesn’t bother to turn around. She’s still mindlessly looking at a picture of Chloe, her arms wrapped around a boy (a boyfriend? relative? family friend?) when she feels someone gently remove the headphones from her ears.

“Are you stalking me?” says the person behind her. Beca jumps, startled, and finds herself face-to-face with Chloe, who is smirking at her, hands on her hips. Beca flushes such a deep red she could blend in with Chloe’s hair. For a long moment, Beca just sits there, frozen. When her brain regains function, she slams her laptop shut and covers her face with her hands, willing her face to return to its natural color.

“No,” she mumbles through her fingers. She peeks at Chloe, who crosses her arms. “Okay, maybe a little.” She braces herself for Chloe to start yelling—about semi-finals, about avoiding her, about Beca invading her privacy (which is stupid, because that’s what Facebook is  _for_ ).

But Chloe doesn’t yell. She sits on Beca’s bed and faces the brunette. “I missed you too.”

Beca drops her hands into her lap and picks at her already-chipped black nail polish. “I’m sorry,” she blurts. “For… Everything. For semi-finals. For ignoring your texts.”

“I’m not mad.” Beca looks up at Chloe, relieved. The redhead motions for Beca to join her on the bed, and Beca hesitantly complies (because she’s  _really_  not in a place to say no to Chloe right now). The two sit side-by-side, their backs against the shelves holding Beca’s massive record collection. Chloe leans her head on Beca’s shoulder, so the brunette can feel the vibrations produced by Chloe’s voice.

“I’m not mad,” she says again, “but I am a little confused, I guess. If you were mad at Aubrey, why have you been ignoring  _me_?”

“I’m sorry,” Beca repeats, her brain muddled with the pressure of Chloe’s cheek against her shoulder, with the warmth of her body seeping into Beca’s.

“I thought we were friends,” Chloe says, in a voice so small and hurt that Beca would be willing to grovel at Aubrey’s heel-clad feet if it would make Chloe feel better.

“We are! Chloe, you’re”—Beca draws in a breath, gathering her courage—“you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” She can feel Chloe’s smile against her shoulder.

“Really?” Chloe sits up and faces Beca.

“Really. I’ve never really had a lot of friends,” Beca admits, looking at her lap, unable to meet Chloe’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe says quietly. The horribly guilty feeling that’s been plaguing Beca since semi-finals washes over her again, because only  _Chloe_  would be apologizing to  _her_  after  _Beca_  had been a huge ass.

“No, it’s fine,” Beca says quickly. “I never really  _wanted_  to be friends with most people.”

She glances at Chloe, who looks both pleased and flattered. “You’re special,” Beca jokes, poking Chloe in the foot. Chloe smiles.

“Why have you been ignoring me, though?”

“I was never mad at you,” Beca says, willing herself to look into Chloe’s eyes. “I was mad at  _me_. For screwing up your chance at a national win. And for yelling at you— _especially_  for yelling at you, because you didn’t deserve it. You should hate me.”

Chloe laughs, and twines her fingers with Beca’s. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

Beca smiles and lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, feeling immensely relieved (and a little bit lightheaded because  _Chloe is holding her hand_ ). Then she makes a face. “Does this mean I have to apologize to Aubrey?”

“Probably,” Chloe says, squeezing Beca’s hand. “But not right now. And”—she looks around conspiratorially—“don’t tell her I said this, but I think it sounded really good.”

Beca sighs. “I guess it doesn’t matter much now. I made us lose.”

“Aww, is someone going to miss the Bellas?” Chloe teases, although there is a tinge of sadness in her voice.

“I never thought I’d say it, but yeah, I will,” Beca says, surprised at the truth in her words.

“Even Aubrey?”

“Oh,  _especially_  Aubrey,” Beca says sarcastically. “Who else is going to yell at me about my”—she holds her fingers up in air quotes—“ _ear monstrosities_  or nag me about cardio?” Chloe swats at her playfully.

“I’m glad we’re best friends,” Chloe says, with a smile so sincere it makes Beca’s heart hurt.

“Me, too,” Beca says. They sit there, hands entangled, in a comfortable silence for a few moments before Chloe’s phone interrupts with a  _One New Text Message_ alert.

Chloe pulls her hand away to read the message. “My mom’s here,” she says, and engulfs Beca in a hug. Beca allows herself to hug Chloe back.

“Have fun,” Beca says.

“I will.” Chloe smiles, walking to the door. “Bye, stalker.”

Chloe ducks out the door before the pillow Beca lobs at her hits her.


	9. Chapter 9

Spring break passes very slowly for Beca. While she loves having the radio station to herself every night, the daylight hours seem to drag on endlessly. She’s probably written about twenty text messages to Chloe ranging from  _Hey, how are you_  to  _I can’t stop thinking about you_  to  _let’s make out_  (slight exaggeration) but every time she deletes it at the last second. Chloe’s texted her a few times, checking in to see how Beca’s holding up by herself at Barden and asking about the radio station. She’s even sent one or two pictures of her cat. Chloe, Beca notices, always makes the first move. One Thursday afternoon, after hours of screwing around with mixes, Beca gathers her courage to initiate conversation. She taps out a brusque  _what’s up_ and hits send before she loses her nerve. Her phone buzzes almost immediately.

**Chloe:**   _Hi! I was just thinking about you._

Butterflies run rampant in Beca’s stomach and she smiles giddly.  _Chloe_  is thinking of  _her_.

**Beca:**   _You were?_

**Chloe:**   _Yeah, I was thinking about your awesome mixes._ :) _How’s Barden?_

**Beca:**   _Quiet. Boring._  She pauses, and then types  _I wish you were here_  and presses send before she can overthink it. The sixty or so seconds that it takes Chloe to reply seem to stretch on for an eternity. Finally, Beca’s phone vibrates in her hand.

**Chloe:**   _I miss you too_. _The whole “spend time with family” thing is starting to get a little old, lol._

**Beca:**   _Trust me, I know._

**Chloe:**   _Have you seen your parents at all?_

Beca hesitates, fingers hovering over her phone. Chloe knows her parents are divorced, and she knows Beca’s dad lives a few minutes away from campus. But they never really discussed Beca’s dysfunctional family dynamic in detail. Strangely, Beca  _wants_  to open up to Chloe. She wants to confide in her about the anguish she suffered when her father left her when Beca was in eighth grade. She wants to vent to Chloe about her anger at her dad’s self-righteous imposition of a “real college education,” when he couldn’t be bothered to care before. Beca wants to let Chloe in. Which is weird, and scary, because she’d never trusted someone so much before. But just as she’s about to pour her heart out via text message, Beca stops. While Chloe is pretty much Beca’s best and only friend, Beca is definitely  _not_ Chloe’s only friend. As much as she wants to confide in Chloe, Beca’s not quite ready to face Chloe’s potential rejection if she jumps in head first and freaks Chloe out.

**Beca:**   _No._

And Chloe doesn’t push the issue.

* * *

By the following Saturday, Beca’s bored. Out of her mind. So bored, in fact, that she texts the only person she knows who is still at Barden: Luke, the station manager (with the nice abs). A couple of weeks ago he’d told Beca about this club he goes to sometimes; according to him, it has awesome music. And he can get her in even though she’s underage (“I know a guy,” Luke had said). So Beca texts him, and they arrange to meet there at half-past-eight. For the first time in about a week, Beca gets dressed in something other than pajama pants and a tank top, brushes her hair, and walks the ten minutes to the club.

Luke greets her at the door and the bouncer waves her in, much to the annoyance of the people in the very long line. Colored lights flash all over the club, which appears to be a converted warehouse. The music is so loud that Beca can feel the bass reverberating in her feet and she has to shout into Luke’s ear just to be heard.

“Thanks for getting me in,” she yells.

Luke shrugs nonchalantly. “It was nothing. Can I get you a drink?” Beca nods and watches as Luke elbows his way throw the throng of chatting, dancing people in the direction of the bar. When he returns, he hands Beca a cup of a liquid that doesn’t have much of a taste but burns the back of her throat and all the way down into her stomach.

“Thanks,” she says, sipping gingerly at her drink. She’s already starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol (because, let’s face it, Beca barely weighs more than 100 pounds). Luke shrugs again, and they stand there in an awkward silence for a few moments.

Beca wracks her brain (which is taking a little more effort than it should) for something to talk about. “What made you decide to play my music?”

“Well, I finally listened to it because Jesse kept bugging me. And it was good. He’s a relentless kid,” Luke says with yet another shrug. “Listen, I’m gonna go hang. You gonna be alright looking out for yourself?”

“Uh, sure,” Beca says, taking another drink as Luke walks away. Her legs are tingling now. She thinks about Luke’s words; she should probably apologize to Jesse. She doesn’t  _not_ like Jesse—but she doesn’t  _like_  like Jesse, and his advances were relentless and annoying, almost desperate. Aubrey’s constant harassment didn’t help; it was like she was looking for any reason to justify kicking Beca out of the Bellas.  _Well,_  Beca muses,  _she finally succeeded._  Deciding she has nothing to lose, Beca sends a  _can we talk_  text to Jesse, who had insisted on exchanging phone numbers after two days of working at the station. She tucks her phone back into her pocket and takes another sip of her drink, surprised to find that the cup is nearly empty.  _That explains why I can’t feel my feet,_  Beca thinks, and giggles. Actually giggles. Which is weird, because Beca is  _definitely_  not a giggle person, and there is really nothing laughable about the situation.  _What the hell,_  Beca thinks, and knocks back the remainder of the mystery liquid and stumbles away from the dance floor to find a trash can for her cup. She trips and nearly crashes into a couple making out against a wall, but the two are too enthralled in each other’s mouths to notice. Beca suddenly drops her cup, and it’s not because she had located a trash can. It’s because she recognizes that red hair. It’s because she’s spilled coffee all over the boots the girl is wearing. It’s because the girl, pressed against the wall by some beefy dude, is  _Chloe_.

Beca’s phone buzzes. She fumbles for it with numb fingers and reads the swimming text.

It’s from Jesse.  _Yes,_  it reads. _I’m back at Barden._

* * *

Beca arrives at Jesse’s dorm room door, breathless. She’d run the entire way back to campus, focusing on the pounding of her feet against the sidewalk. Her mind is swimming, partially from the liquor but mostly from confusion. Confusion, and hurt. A lot of hurt. She knocks twice, and steadies herself with a hand on the wall. Jesse opens the door and his face immediately morphs into a concerned frown.

“Beca, what happened?” he says. Beca hadn’t even realized she’d been crying until she touches her fingers to her cheeks. She sways slightly on her feet and Jesse grabs her arm, leading her to sit down on his bed. He faces her, sitting on Benji’s Star Wars-blanketed bed.

“Beca?” Jesse says again, passing her a tissue.

Beca wipes her eyes with shaking hands. “I’m sorry,” she sniffles.

Jesse looks confused. “You got drunk just to apologize to me?”

Beca shakes her head. “She didn’t tell me she was back. Why would she not tell me?”

She’s not even sure she’s said the words out loud until Jesse stares at her blankly. “What? Who?”

“Chloe,” Beca says, too upset and inebriated to care that she’s baring her biggest insecurity to Jesse, who probably hates her right now.

“Chloe came back and didn’t tell you?” Jesse asks, still looking very confused. Beca nods. “Chloe came back from where?”

“Home. She said she was coming home on Tuesday. Why would she lie to me?”

Jesse shakes his head. “Beca, I think you need to start from the beginning.” So Beca tells Jesse about her lonesome spring break, about meeting up with Luke, about seeing some guy trying to eat Chloe’s face. Which is difficult, because Beca’s tongue feels a bit too big for her mouth and her thoughts are muddled.

Jesse seems to at least get the gist of the story. “Are you upset because Chloe didn’t tell you she was back early or are you upset because she was kissing that guy?” he asks, and runs a hand through his hair. Beca sniffles in response, internally debating about increasing her vulnerability by finally voicing her feelings towards Chloe.

Beca must have been taking too long to answer, because Jesse decides to get to the point. “Do you like Chloe?”

_Fuck it,_  Beca thinks. She nods.

Jesse looks at his hands. “I suspected it,” he says. “I think it’s pretty obvious I like you. But you always seemed to… look at Chloe the way I wanted you to look at me.”

Beca holds her head in her hands. “It’s pretty clear that she doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Maybe she’s waiting for you to make the first move.” Beca just shakes her head, because Chloe  _always_  makes the first move.

Jesse stares at Beca for a long moment before getting to his feet and wrapping a steady hand around Beca’s arm. “Let’s get you back to your room,” he says. Beca allows herself to be led down the hallway, stumbling slightly at the stairs. After Jesse deposits her at her door and gives her an awkward hug, she falls into bed, head pounding and mind spinning. She pulls her headphones over her ears and turns her iPod’s volume all the way up despite her headache.

She doesn’t want to think about anything right now.


	10. Chapter 10

Beca’s head is throbbing painfully. Pulsating, matching the beat of her own heart. An incessant rhythm being tapped out by a sledgehammer. A pounding resonating in her ears—

That’s the door.

Beca groans and drags herself—actually, physically drags herself—out of bed and stumbles to the door, absently worrying about offending whoever is on the other side with her vile morning breath. One hand on her head, she turns the knob and wrenches open the door.

 “Hi,” Jesse says softly, holding out a bottle of Advil.

Beca frowns. “How did you know?” She takes the bottle and steps aside to let him in and sits down on her bed. He stands in the middle of her room, looking awkwardly at his hands before shoving them into his pockets and sitting on the edge of Kimmy Jin’s bed.

“Do you not remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Coming to my room last night?” Jesse looks at her expectantly.

“I, uh—“ Beca wracks her brain, trying to recall exactly what she had done last night after discovering Chloe attached to some dude. “Vaguely.”

“You were pretty wasted,” Jesse says, twisting the fabric of his jeans with one hand.

“I am realizing that now,” Beca says, holding her still-very-sore head in her hands.

“Do you remember what you told me?”

Beca looks up at him. “Did I apologize? I meant to. Luke said he listened to my music because of you. And I wanted to say thank you. And that I’m sorry because I was such a jerk and—” She realizes she’s rambling a bit. “So, yeah. I’m sorry.”

Jesse shakes his head. “Well, you did apologize. But I meant the other thing.”

“I am not in the mood for twenty questions,” Beca mumbles, pressing her fingertips into the corners of her eyes.

“You told me about Chloe.”  
Beca’s head snaps up. “I did  _what?!_ ”

“It’s not a big deal…”

“Wow.” Beca covers her face, which she is positive is a very bright shade of red right now, with her hands.

“Beca.” Pretending not to hear Jesse, she rummages on her nightstand for a water bottle. “Beca.” She unscrews the cap, and drops two Advils into her mouth and takes a long swallow. “ _Beca_.”

She sighs. “What?”

“I’m not going to tell anyone. And if you… need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Beca looks Jesse in the eye for the first time since he came to her room. “Thanks.”

Jesse stands, motioning towards the door. “Well, this had been sufficiently awkward.”

Beca snorts. “Yep.”  
“Bye,” Jesse says, giving a sort of half-salute and letting himself out of the room.

Beca stares at the door for several minutes before her phone vibrates from somewhere in the depths of her bed; it takes a moment of searching to locate it.  _One new text message_ blinks on the screen, and when Beca sees the sender’s name, she freezes.

It’s from Chloe.

_The kid form the Footnotes is in high school! We’re in the finals!_

* * *

Beca doesn’t text Chloe back.

She thinks about it. No— _obsesses_  over it.

But she doesn’t text Chloe back. Because every draft of possible replies was something along the lines of  _who the hell was that guy_  and Beca doesn’t even know  _why_  she’s so pissed about this because it’s not like Chloe cheated on her or anything and she doesn’t even  _like_  Chloe in that way because Beca’s not gay and so it shouldn’t even matter.

But it does.

And so Beca doesn’t text Chloe back.

* * *

Deciding to go to rehearsal is a last-minute decision that has a lot less to do with Beca’s heart-to-heart with her dad (desperate times call for desperate measures) and a lot more to do with several consecutive sleepless nights paired with some haranguing on Jesse’s part (“Stop moping and just fucking  _go_ so I don’t catch your depression”). So Beca spends a long time gathering her courage outside the door of the old auditorium-slash-Bellas rehearsal space. She’s having a full-blown internal argument, the proverbial angel-on-one-shoulder-devil-on-the-other when she hears screaming. Screaming that sounds a lot like… Fat Amy? It’s the kick in the pants Beca needs to push open the door and suddenly she finds herself right smack in the middle of the craziest scene she has ever witnessed.

“Guys!” Beca yells, eyes widening at the absolute madhouse unfolding in front of her. Aubrey and Chloe are wrestling on the floor and Stacie’s blowing her official BU rape whistle and Lilly is lying on her back in a puddle of vomit and—“What the  _hell_  is going on in here?”

Everyone freezes. Aubrey jumps up from the floor, Bellas pitch pipe in one hand and wiping her mouth with the other. “This is a Bellas rehearsal,” she says, straightening her sweater.

“I know,” Beca says, taking a tentative step towards the girls and inhaling a deep breath. “I just came to say… that I’m sorry. What I did was a real dick move and I shouldn’t have changed the set without asking you guys. And I definitely shouldn’t have left.” Her eyes meet Chloe’s briefly and Beca’s stomach knots. The redhead gives a barely-perceptible nod of encouragement. “And Aubrey, if you would have me… I want back in.”

_Stupid_ , Beca scolds herself as she turns to leave. She turns to look at Aubrey one last time before she prepares to leave the auditorium. The blond just looks at her hands. Walking past the piano, Beca grabs the chair and drags it behind her as she heads for the door (okay, she’s being a  _little_ dramatic, so sue her).

“Wait.”

“Thank you,” Beca says, letting go of the chair. “That would have been embarrassing.”

“Beca, I know that I have been hard on you, okay?” Aubrey says, tears on the edge of her voice. “I know that I have been hard on everyone here. But I am my father’s daughter. And he always said”—she drops into a chair, looking at the floor—“if at first you don’t succeed, pack your bags.

_Whoa._ “I uh, I get it,” Beca says tentatively. “Mine gets on me too. Not like that but… I guess we don’t know that much about each other. About most of you, really.”

What follows is a heartfelt, mushy, cheesy, everything-Beca-is-against sharing session. In a show of support, every girl in the group divulges something (although Stacie’s “confession” doesn’t really count). When Chloe stands suddenly, Beca’s heart beats faster with nervous anticipation, although rationally she knows that Chloe’s not going to grovel for Beca’s forgiveness for not disclosing minute-by-minute her activities over spring break.

“Over spring break”—Beca feels a little bit sick—“I made the courageous decision to remove my nodes.” Everyone’s mouth drops open in a stunned silence, eyes on the teary redhead. “The doctors said I can’t sing above a G-sharp maybe  _ever_ ,” Chloe continues, sniffling. “I thought the season was over.”

Everyone starts muttering concerned and apologetic comments to Chloe, but Beca is glued to her chair. What else has Chloe not told her? She can’t help but feel offended even though clearly Chloe didn’t even tell  _Aubrey_  about her surgery so why should she tell Beca? It hurts just the same, and she fights the urge to add to Aubrey’s impressive vomit puddle.

“Beca?” Aubrey’s voice pulls Beca out of her pity party. She stands and faces the older girl. “What do we do?” Aubrey asks, and tosses the pitch pipe in Beca’s direction. Beca’s mind and her body are kind of on two different pages right now and she fumbles her catch and inadvertently knocks the precious pitch pipe into what used to be Aubrey’s breakfast.

“Maybe not here,” Beca says, and in a few minutes the Bellas are on their way to the empty swimming pool where the riff-off had been held.

When everyone regroups in the center of the pool Beca asks, “Aubrey, will you pick a song for us, please?”

“Bruno Mars,” Aubrey says with a nod, “Just the Way You Are.”

“I, uh”—Beca sputters haltingly, catching herself before she says  _absolutely not_  because she’s used that song in far too many Chloe-inspired mixes to have it  _not_  affect her emotionally. She sighs. “Okay.” And then, because she apparently likes torturing herself—“Chloe, are you okay to take the lead?” The redhead nods.

It’s a little bit awkward at first, with everyone trying to find her part in the harmony, but when Chloe starts singing the melody it just  _works_. Chloe’s eyes are on Beca’s and the brunette nearly melts. And then Chloe smiles over at Aubrey and Beca remembers to jump in with “Just A Dream” and then everyone gets into it and it sounds  _amazing_. When they finish everyone just stands there in silence for a few moments, smiling at each other and looking nervously at Aubrey before even  _she_  has to smile.

“Hands in!” Aubrey says excitedly. “One, two…”

In the midst of the Bellas’ collective “aaahhh”s, Beca hears a bizarre sound, a very low bass tone of sorts. And everyone else must hear it too, because their heads whip towards the origin of the sound and, surprisingly, Chloe is standing there with shocked eyes and a hand clapped over her mouth.

“What was that?” Fat Amy asks.

“I don’t know, I’ve never made that sound before,” Chloe says, eyebrows knitted together.

“With your messed up vocal cords, you can hit the bass notes,” Cynthia Rose says, and everyone starts chattering excitedly.

Except Beca’s not feeling very excited, despite all that has just transpired. Chloe’s vocal revelation is yet another reminder of all that Beca  _still_  doesn’t know about Chloe, and even though it’s irrational, she feels sad. She’s quiet on the walk back in the direction of the dorms, and when Chloe squeezes her shoulder


	11. Chapter 11

“What is wrong with me?”

Jesse smirks and starts, “Well—“

Beca holds up a hand. “Actually, don’t answer that.” She’s been pacing the space between Jesse and Benji’s beds for the better part of the last hour (Benji, thankfully, had taken one look at Beca’s disgruntled expression and conspicuously hurried out, claiming he had to go to the library to study).

“You’re overreacting,” Jesse says. He’s stretched out on his bed, back against the wall, with a half amused, half concerned look on his face.

“I  _know_ ,” Beca huffs. “I can’t help it!” She plops down on Benji’s bed and rakes a hand through her hair.

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated,” Jesse says with a dopey half-grin on his face.

Beca narrows her eyes. “I am  _not._ ”

“Okay, listen. You’ve been stressing about this Chloe thing for, like, two weeks. How about you just  _ask_  her why she didn’t tell you about the surgery?” Jesse suggests, annoyingly reasonable as always.

“And the guy at the club.”

“And the guy at the club,” Jesse repeats, rolling his eyes.

“I  _can’t._ ”

“And why is that?”

“She’ll ask why I waited so long to talk to her about it,” Beca says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“So?”

“So I can’t tell her that I _like_  her.” Beca stands and begins pacing again.

Jesse runs a hand down his face. They’ve had no less than six of these conversations in the last week and a half. “Why not?”

Beca shakes her head. “Because.”

“Because? What are you, twelve? That is not a reason.”

Beca’s response is to throw one of Benji’s pillows at him. “Because there’s no way in hell Chloe likes me back.”

“Have you ever heard the expression ‘you never know until you try’?”

“You are such a cliché.”

“From what you’ve told me, Chloe didn’t even tell  _Aubrey_  that she was back on campus or that she was having surgery. So there must have been a reason and the only way you’ll know is if you _fucking talk to her._ ”

Beca stands in the middle of the room, shifting from one foot to the other. “No.”

“Bec—“

“I said no.”

Jesse raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Keep your pants on, jeez.” Beca immediately reddens. “Did you just—”

 “No.”

* * *

In her defense, Beca does consider talking to Chloe. But every scenario she comes up with in her head ends either awkwardly or violently. Not that she thinks Chloe would  _actually_ hit her if Beca confessed her feelings, but she’s never had to deal with this whole gay thing before. Not that Beca’s gay. She just has a… Chloe issue.

It’s a good thing Aubrey finally decided to listen to Beca’s ideas, because pulling together an entirely new set list complete with new outfits and new choreography takes up almost all of Beca’s time. She’d spent almost two full days (and nights) picking songs and mixing them together. If rehearsals had been tough before, they were grueling now that the date of the ICCAs loomed ever closer. Beca tries to act, well,  _not awkward_  around Chloe but she must be a terrible actress because—

“You’re acting weird.”

Beca winces. “Thanks, Aubrey, you give the best compliments.”

Aubrey rolls her eyes. “You’re being… twitchy.”

“It’s nothing,” Beca says, toying with her bracelets and looking at the floor.

“Are you nervous for nationals? I know we haven’t always gotten along, Beca, but I trust you and I am confident we are going to kick some aca-ass,” Aubrey says, and tentatively pats Beca on the shoulder.

Beca smiles. “Thanks.” Aubrey nods before walking away to rein in Stacie’s self-groping. When Beca turns around to rejoin the group, she finds Chloe standing in very close proximity behind her and jumps. “Ack!”

Chloe bursts out laughing. “You should have seen your face!”

Beca frowns, her face reddening. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days if you don’t stop sneaking up on me, Beale.”

“Sorry,” Chloe says, trying to sober her expression, but her lips twitch and a few giggles escape.

Beca crosses her arms. “Laugh it up, Chloe. It won’t be so funny when I actually  _do_  die,” she says, but she can feel a smile tugging at her own mouth. It’s impossible to  _not_  catch Chloe’s infectious, well, perpetual happiness.

“I’m CPR certified,” Chloe offers, still trying to suppress her laughter.

“Good to know.”

“Hey, do you want to hang out after practice?” Chloe leans in towards Beca, her breath tickling the brunette’s ear. Beca swallows hard. “Aubrey’s been going crazy with the choreography for this new set,” she whispers.

“Crazier than usual?” Beca jokes, her heart quickening because Chloe’s so close Beca can smell her perfume. It’s borderline intoxicating.

Chloe pokes her in the side. “Is that a yes?”

Beca totally intends to say no. She  _should_  say no, because finally voicing her feelings for Chloe (even if it  _was_  just to Jesse) made the whole thing infinitely more real, and terrifying, and her body has a pretty extensive track record of betraying her when she’s in Chloe’s company. She’s about to say no, in fact, when all of a sudden her mouth says, “Sure, you can come over to my room.”

“Great, thanks!” Chloe squeals, kissing Beca chastely on the cheek and bounding away. Beca presses a hand to her face where Chloe’s lips had just been and suppresses her urge to run out the door immediately.

* * *

When they arrive at Beca’s dorm room, Chloe tosses her bag on Beca’s desk chair and says, “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” With a smile, she ducks out the door. Beca waits a few seconds to be sure she’s gone and then quickly dials Jesse’s number on her cell phone.

After two rings, Jesse answers. “Hey, Becs. Sup?”

Beca glances furtively at her door, as if to make sure Chloe had really left. “I’m in my room. Chloe’s here. Well, right now she’s in the bathroom.”

There’s a moment of silence. “And?”

“I don’t know what to do!” Beca exclaims, and sits down on her bed.

“What do you two usually do?” Jesse asks, a tinge of confusion in his voice.

“I don’t know… we talk, or listen to music.”  
“So do that.”

Beca sighs. “I’m not really sure why I called you.”

Jesse laughs. “It’s fine. Are you going to tell her?”

“No,” Beca says definitively.

Jesse begins to chant, “Do it, do it, do it.”

“You’re not helpful,” Beca says, rolling her eyes.

“You’re welcome. Let me know how it goes.”

“Bye,” Beca says, and ends the call. She holds her head in her hands and takes deep breaths.

The door opens. “I’m back,” Chloe says, and sits next to Beca. The redhead frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” Beca says, looking at the wall behind Chloe’s head.

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting sort of strange lately. Like… twitchy.”  
Beca laughs. “That’s what Aubrey said.”

Chloe leans back against the shelves over Beca’s bed. “So it’s not just me. Seriously, Beca, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I—well, okay.” Beca twists the rings on her fingers nervously. “Uh… Well, um—“  
“Beca, what is it?” Chloe interrupts, a look of concern on her face.

Beca decides to start with what she judges as the least offensive of the things that have been plaguing her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having your nodes removed?”

Chloe looks down at her lap. “I was scared. I didn’t know how affected my voice would be after and… I don’t know. I didn’t want to worry anyone.” She looks directly into Beca’s eyes, and for a moment Beca forgets how to breathe. “I’m sorry if that hurt your feelings. That was the last thing I wanted to do.”

“It’s okay,” Beca says and, because she doesn’t really know what else to say, she leans over and awkwardly wraps her arms around the redhead. Chloe squeezes her arms tight around the younger girl’s shoulders. When they break apart, Chloe smiles at her.

_That was fairly well-received,_  Beca thinks. She takes a deep breath and gathers her nerve. “Okay, so over spring break, I saw you,” she says. Chloe frowns confusedly. “At that club, the Garage,” the brunette elaborates.

“Oh,” Chloe says quietly.

“You were sort of attached to some guy’s face,” Beca says and then winces internally.  _That was really sensitive, Mitchell,_  she chastises herself.

Amazingly, Chloe laughs. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”

“You didn’t tell me you were back on campus.”

Chloe’s expression softens. “I know,” she says quietly. “I didn’t tell anyone. I was upset because I had just found out that we were in the finals and I had gone ahead and had the surgery. I just wanted to forget about it for a while.” There’s a moment of silence, with the two just looking at each other. Then Chloe frowns. “Wait,” she says. “Why were  _you_  at the Garage? You’re not even twenty-one.”

“I got bored over spring break and Luke, the radio station manager, had said he could get me in,” Beca explains.

Chloe looks at her with a strange expression on her face. “Are you, you know, seeing him?”

“What? No,” Beca says, with a sort of shocked half-laugh. “Why? Are  _you_  seeing the guy  _you_ were with?”

“Just… wondering. And no,” Chloe says, scrunching up her nose _. Adorable,_  Beca thinks. “To be honest, I don’t even remember his name.”

Beca coughs. “Slut,” she says, imitating Fat Amy. This earns her a pillow-whack from Chloe. The redhead flops down on her back, pulling Beca down next to her.

“I’m glad you’re not seeing Luke,” Chloe says, so quietly Beca’s not sure she heard her correctly. But before she can ask why, Beca’s phone lights up. It’s a text message from Jesse.  _Did you tell her yet?_

Chloe leans over her shoulder. “Tell me what?”

Beca flinches. “How do you know it’s about you?”

Chloe turns so she’s facing the brunette. “Is it?”

“No.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“No I’m not.” She’s stalling.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m—“

“ _Beca.”_

Beca caves. “Okay, but it’s nothing important. Jesse’s an idiot.”

“I don’t believe you,” Chloe says. “Is it what’s been bothering you?”

“You could say that,” Beca says, not meeting the redhead’s breathtakingly blue eyes. She fidgets with her earrings, her bracelets, anything to avoid an imminent confession.

Chloe puts her hand on Beca’s arm. “You can tell me.”

Beca stares at Chloe’s hand. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.” The hand squeezes gently.

“Or what?” Still stalling.

“Or else.”

“Or else wh—“

“You know what?” Chloe stands, abruptly cutting Beca off. “This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.” She turns to grab her bag.

Beca sighs. “Okay.” Chloe smiles and sits back down. “You’re using your powers for evil.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Get on with it.”

Beca takes a deep breath. “Jesse may or may not think that I haveacrushonyou.”

“Huh?” Chloe frowns.

“Jesse thinks I like you,” Beca says, feeling her face heat up.

“And do you?” Beca swears she sees a smile play on Chloe’s lips.

“It’s possible,” Beca says, covering her face with her hands.

“How possible?”

Beca groans and peeks at Chloe through her fingers. “Pretty possible.” There’s a beat of silence before Chloe bursts out laughing. Full-on, doubled-over, bad-sitcom laughter. “Hey!” Beca grumbles, annoyed. “You could be a little more sensitive than that.”

Chloe wipes at her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she gasps out, trying to control her giggles.

Beca crosses her arms over her chest. “I was lying. I actually hate you.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Chloe takes a steadying breath. “Aubrey thinks I like  _you._ ”

Beca raises an eyebrow, trying not to feel too hopeful. “And?”

“It’s pretty possible it’s true.”

Beca can’t control the smile that stretches across her face. “Oh.”

“Yep,” Chloe says, also smiling.

“I still hate you.”

“I hate you too,” Chloe says, and suddenly her face is  _very_  close to Beca’s.

“How much?” Beca whispers, eyes on Chloe’s lips.

“This much.” The redhead closes the gap and  _holy shit_  Chloe is  _kissing_  her.

Beca is kissing Chloe and Chloe’s has one hand on her cheek and one on Beca’s knee and somehow Beca’s hand is in Chloe’s hair and Chloe’s tongue is  _in her mouth oh my God_. It’s over way too soon, but it’s probably for the best because Beca’s heart is pounding so erratically it’s very possible she’s going to drop dead, right there in her dorm room.

“Well,” Chloe says, catching her breath, “that wasn’t  _awful_.”

Beca lightly punches Chloe in the arm. “You’re mean.”

“I know,” Chloe says, and puts her hand on the back of the brunette’s neck, pulling her in for another kiss.

Beca makes a mental note to not kill Jesse later.

* * *

It’s really no surprise when the Bellas win the ICCAs two weeks later.

No, the surprise (for most of the Bellas, anyway) was when Chloe pulled Beca in for a victory kiss after their win was announced.

Fat Amy is her usual diplomatic self: “I think they caught it from Cynthia Rose!” she shouts, pulling her shirt up over her mouth. “Does anyone have a surgical mask?” Cynthia Rose takes a deep breath and blows, full force, in Amy’s face.

“I was  _kidding_ ,” the blonde insists, and everyone laughs.

When Beca finally makes her way back to her seat, Jesse taps her on the shoulder. “I told you,” he says, “endings are the best part.”

Beca rolls her eyes, and slings an arm around Chloe. “You’re such a weirdo.”


End file.
